Unmasked!
by shywr1ter
Summary: S1, ML. Eyes Only revealed! New mysteries unfold...
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel borrowed, no profits realized. **

_**A/N:** With apologies (and thanks) to those of you nice enough to send periodic inquiries (Requests? Entreaties? Demands? Threats?) about my other stories-in-progress: I promise, none is abandoned; all have plot outlines, randomly sketched scenes, and genuine endings my trusty computer files. But sometimes other stories just have to be aired. The last time I waited to post a "great idea" I waited too long, and what had been a never-before-written idea for M & L ended up occurring to another writer here recently, so mine would now appear to be just a cheesy rip-off. I'm hopeful that it won't happen with this one – which, I think, may also be a new way of looking at a now-familiar plot line ..._

* * *

_**Unmasked!**_

* * *

"C'mon, Logan." Bling stood in the training room, idly imaging how many more useful minutes he might have each day if Logan actually came in for his ROM the first time Bling called – he even chuckled at the image of Logan ready and waiting for his arrival, eagerly awaiting his therapy. _Yeah, and pigs might fly,_ he counseled himself, remembering one of his Granny's favorite expressions, and allowed himself a slight smile at the sight of Logan approaching, dutifully, after only two prods. _They might learn to fly after all,_ he mused. "How was the game this morning?" he asked, suddenly recalling that his employer had an unusually early start to his day. 

Logan laughed softly, mentally replaying a few choice moments in the near-dawn pick-up game, his first time joining teammates at their sun-up sessions for another round of basketball. "Great; there were some good players here. But 6:00 a.m? Why do they have to be so uncivilized about it?"

Bling smirked as he watched his charge line up with the therapy table and pull up into place. "Most of those guys have day jobs, with regular hours. A lot of the world is half done with their day by the time you roll out of bed." Bling noted with satisfaction that any tiredness or weakness Logan might have had in his arms from ninety minutes of full court basketball earlier that morning had resolved – he moved with his usual strength and range. _Good,_ the trainer noted to himself. _Man's getting himself in fine shape._

"And I spend all of _my_ day trying to clean up what the rest of the world has done in that time." He was just settling in on the padded surface when his phone rang – the line known only to his higher placed informants. Bling didn't even stop to glance back at him before crossing into the computer room for the handset. The therapist brought the phone in and, silently, handed it to him; Logan thumbed the talk button quickly and answered, "yeah –"

"Logan – Matt. Turn on the news, now –"

"Matt; what –" But in that moment, there was a sudden _snick_, and then ... nothing. Logan blinked and pulled the phone away to look at the phone's display screen, frowning his surprise, then looked back up. "Matt Sung – all he said was to turn on the news." As Bling crossed the room to lift the remote and turn on the small set in the corner, Logan continued, "it's his cell number, but I couldn't tell if he was cut off, or..."

His words died, hanging in the air as the men stared at the familiar sight on the screen – Eyes Only's distinctive eyes masked by the red, white and blue trailers framing them – but only in the corner of the screen, displayed over the shoulder of a pretty, local news anchor as she spoke.

"_...years of eluding local, state and federal authorities, Seattle's own Eyes Only has been identified. Details next, when we return..." _

The color drained from Logan's face as he stared at the television screen, unmoving for only a bare moment. In the next instant, however, he shifted over to the end of the table and, as if choreographed, Bling swung his chair back in place just in time to catch its owner, mid-dismount, and Eyes Only spun without stopping into the computer room. As Logan's hands flew over the keyboard, Bling followed him, stopping long enough to turn the television on in the computer room as well, hoping the report would give them some idea of the source of the threat, how much time they had, and, for Bling, how best to get Logan to safety. Their only accompaniment in those first, tense moments was the mindless bleating of a local commercial jingle as the store owner, hawking his wares, announced that prosperity was just around the corner. As always, even breaking news had to wait through the ads...

Logan finally spoke as he worked though his evacuation procedures. "Matt didn't say a thing about who or what it all is. Either he couldn't talk or he doesn't know what's going down yet ... maybe it leaked to the media before they could get here."

Bling glanced back at him, seeing on the computer screen that Logan had already put the first level of security walls in place, layering in enough defenses that he bought time to re-encrypt and secure all the evidence contained in his files of his work and the Informant Net. To Bling's consternation, he saw that Logan was also using up valuable time encoding the evidence he had so recently gathered on one of the city's commissioners...

The therapist, now in full bodyguard mode, crossed to the large cabinet which hid several file drawers and a safe. Quickly keying in the pass codes to open the locked door, he opened it and said tersely, "Shut it down, Logan. Don't worry about saving all those files. If we don't know what's going on, we need to assume the worst and get you out of here." He pulled open one file drawer then the next, lifting out a couple dozen documents and other materials previously agreed between them as the essential few that were vital to the safety of the Net and to Eyes Only. With them, Logan had placed another set of items for Max, both for her protection and for her quest to discover her siblings. Setting the stack of items to the side, Bling shoved the drawer shut and now opened the safe.

Logan's eyes never left the monitor screens and his hands were in constant motion. His voice was measured and calm. "The Net's quiet; it looks as if no one saw this coming other than Matt, and he sounded surprised at it, too. Just another couple minutes, Bling, and I can get..." his words trailed as he focused more on the work before him.

Bling pulled out Logan's prepared identity documents, as well as a generous stash of credit cards, cash, keys and a couple cell phones. From another portion of the safe, he pulled out two guns to add to his own and the one at Logan's side, with ammunition for all. Shaking his head grimly, he made a final visual sweep of the safe's contents to be certain he had all he needed for this bug-out, and closed the cabinet. He pulled down the satchel kept stashed alongside the cabinet for such an emergency, and turned back to Logan as he reached to shove the documents and other things inside. "C'mon, man, this isn't a drill. Shut it down and let's go." But whatever Logan muttered in response, it was lost to Bling as the television in the corner caught his eye. The news report had started up again, and over the reporter's shoulder he now saw a photograph displayed there of a nondescript, slightly disheveled man. With that, the voice-over pulled his attention...

"_Only moments ago, the Seattle Police issued a statement to the media that Seattle's infamous vigilante, Eyes Only, has finally been identified..._ "

"... just another couple minutes and I'll have it all." Logan was insisting, listening to the report distractedly, his back to the TV. "If I take it all on the laptop it's safe, but can be completely destroyed by remote..."

"Logan..." Bling interrupted.

"_... after authorities received an additional tip in the last two hours..."_

"I think we should just go to the safe house first," Logan insisted, backing up multiple files on his precious, pre-Pulse flash drive as fast as his system would allow, "at least until we know what _they_ know, whoever they are, and if they'll be watching for me to leave the city..."

"_Logan." _The change in Bling's tone worked to get his attention, and Eyes Only finally looked up, curious at the puzzlement he'd heard filter into Bling's voice. Not speaking, Bling just nodded toward the television set, and Logan turned around to see police officers moving across screen, flanking a man in handcuffs, who they accompanied from a patrol car toward the courts building and the attached jail, his clothing rumpled, hair askew, blinking a little at the reporters surging toward him.

"_Eyes Only has been taken into custody..."_

_**...to be continued.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Now that we're into things: this is planned as being largely canon-friendly, with the M & L relationship about where it was at the beginning of BBWW, developing, but before the transfusion and The Kiss..._

_Many thanks for the interest, for reading, and for the reviews and all the speculation!_

* * *

_**Unmasked!**_

* * *

"That's not me." Logan had recovered from the initial, stunning news of Eyes Only's "exposure," his rushed drive to secure his people and intel, and the ill-informed allegation that he was in police custody. Bling grimaced, noting that Logan had offered his observation in a still surprised, half amused tone, his relief evident. _He's not going to take this seriously,_ he predicted. 

At that moment, the man on the screen suddenly turned back toward the bank of reporters, tried to shift his hands into view and balled up one of his hands into a fist. "Stay strong in the struggle!" he grinned.

"...at least I _think_ it's not me," Cale amended, wryly.

Bling still looked grim. "Do you know him?" At Logan's initial head shake, he pressed, "could he be an informant?"

Logan looked again at the alleged Eyes Only as the cameras zoomed in for a better shot of the famous suspect. "I suppose anything is possible, if he was recruited by another informant, but he's not anyone I brought in." He leaned forward, seemingly riveted by the developing mystery.

"Logan, this doesn't really change anything. We need to move you out until we're sure what's going on..."

"Why?" Logan was already relaxing; he sat back in his chair, shoulders releasing from their taut, wired posture as he'd hunched over the keyboard in his rush to shut down operations. "It's probably just some guy who had one too many beers..."

"Fine. We'll laugh about it later. Right now we're outa here. I'll get your bag."

"No, Bling, it's not necessary..." Logan called after the man, who had already disappeared down the hall. "Just a false alarm." Logan was realizing just how much he didn't want to move into some strange place, even for a night or two, unless he absolutely had to. _Not denial_, he assured himself. _Just not a real threat..._

"This is not a debate." Bling lifted the document satchel to his shoulder, looked at Logan sternly, and dropped his pre-packed "flight bag" in his lap. "I'm in charge of keeping you intact, remember?" Bling turned on his heel to go back to the training room, switching off the television set there and grabbing an extra set of first aid and other medical supplies.

Logan groaned inwardly, knowing Bling would drag him out bodily if he thought his safety was compromised. He sat unmoving for only a moment before he grudgingly finished packing up his laptop and dropped his flash drive in its small case. He pulled open his drawer to get his gun but hesitated a moment before lifting it, with a box of ammunition to take as well. "Bling, you're overreacting..." he muttered under his breath. He turned back to his main system and locked in the "stand by" signal for the Net. With a sigh, he turned off the power to the entire array.

"So when you're still around next week you can sue me." Bling reappeared behind him. "You got everything you need?"

"Everything except my own bed ... my own hot tub ... my computers ... my wine rack..." Logan griped, sarcasm dripping, but moved toward the door with his friend.

Bling allowed a silent chuckle at the drama, now that they were actually moving, albeit, slowly. They pressed the call button for the elevator and it came within moments. As they got on, Bling said, "If you're right, you can tell me 'I told you so' as many times as you like. You probably _are_ right on this one. But there are too many..."

Bling's phone rang, a rare occurrence. He pulled it from his pocket, his eyes darting to Logan's as he did so, glanced at the small screen, and frowned slightly. "Unknown caller," he said to Logan. "Hello?"

_xoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxox _

Max had been out on a three stop delivery out near the docks that morning, and hadn't seen anyone from Jam Pony for several hours. Her pager was quiet, traffic only marginally irritating, and the tips were adequate. She liked the longer runs because she could stretch out and ride, allowing a bit of steady exercise and some time alone with her thoughts, not having to be on guard every moment to remember to be the "normal girl" she was supposed to be. _Even getting paid to have this time to myself_, she grinned, _definitely a high point of this job._

But it occurred to her that having time alone didn't feel quite as necessary as it used to be, now that she had someone to talk to who knew all her secrets, even seemed to be impressed by the some of the things she could do. _And the man can cook_, she mused. _Cook ... and challenge her to think, to question what was going on in her little world ... to worry about her... _

She shook it off, snorting to herself as she hopped off her bike a block away from Jam Pony and walked the last several hundred yards, enjoying the cool, sunny day and the chance to have cleared her head. _Don't go there, Max, it's too complicated to start thinking about him ... every time you do, you go to his place with some expectation and he's in the middle of saving the world..."_ Still, she was smiling softly as she thought of his stubborn determination to save mankind from itself. _Just let it all ride 'til the next time he pops up on your pager... _

She walked down the ramp toward Normal's desk, noticing that a crowd had gathered around the television at the far side of the room. Dropping her delivery sheets in front of Normal, who was scratching figures into columns on one of his endless forms, and noticing that Cindy wasn't around to fill her in, she decided to take a chance on Normal's input. Jerking her head toward the others, she tried, "What's going on?"

"Seattle's finest finally caught that outlaw Eyes Only." Normal didn't pull his eyes away from his work. "The news said they have him in jail and the DA..." Finally glancing up, Normal saw he was talking to empty air. "Typical," he muttered. "The attention span of a gnat." With another thought, hoping she was still in earshot, he yelled, "Hey, missy! You signed on for more than one run a day, you know!"

But Max had already disappeared out the door and around the corner to a more "private" phone booth on the street, away from Normal's prying ears. Surprised to find her hands shaking, she dialed Bling's number, almost afraid to waste time by trying Logan first.

He answered on the second ring. The familiar calm of Bling's strong voice immediately made her feel a bit better, and her focus became clearer. "Bling! What's going on?"

There was the slightest pause before Bling answered – but when he spoke he was all business. "We don't know yet, but the reports are all wrong." With that, Max suddenly recognized that Bling was taking no chances by saying something revealing on an unsecured line – _so they're still on alert. _"He's here, with me, and we're looking at options for the next few days."

_Wrong guy in custody, then_, Max relaxed, now having an answer to her most pressing question. _And ... they don't know what's up so Bling is pressing Logan to ... what? Get out of town? Get to a safe house?_ She felt more disconcerted than she liked, not to be able to get their precise plans right away. _What's up with that, Max? He couldn't be in better hands than Bling's, and it's not as if you're like that..._

"Glad to hear it." Max feigned a cheerful note for anyone who might be listening in. "Let me know if I can do anything."

"We will, thanks." His voice was, as always, serene, reassuring in its quiet, even if he was still alert and on mission.

_Bling, thank you for being Bling,_ she thought at him. But she hesitated, still feeling the need to know more, _now_, and where Logan would be, but between the unsecured line and her stubborn insistence that they _weren't_ like that, it made asking damned difficult. "And... um... when you know a little more ... will you let me know?"

She could swear she heard Bling's smile break the tension in his voice. "Absolutely. It won't be long before we get back to you.'

''kay. Thanks..." She hung up, slowly. _There has to be something more to do than only wait_, she frowned, then started walking quickly back to Jam Pony. _First things first. Let's see what the news reports had to say..._

_xoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxox__  
_

Now out of the elevator and into the garage, Bling cut the call. Even in the circumstances, he found himself having to stifle a smile, first at the sound he'd heard in Max's voice, that thread of emotion he caught in her well-trained reaction, and now at the look he saw in Logan's eyes as the man waited anxiously for Bling to relate what Max had said. _When this blows over I am throwing these two in a room together and tossing away the key, _Bling promised himself for what had to be the dozenth time. But before they could discuss the call, Bling interrupted Logan's progress toward the Aztek with a sharp, "no – this way – my car."

Logan stopped. "What? No, Bling, why–"

"Not until we know more. Your car is expected to be here. Any other place it's seen telegraphs that you're on the move, even locally. Maybe in a day or so, we can get it, but for now it stays here."

Logan rolled his eyes, not moving for a moment, but finally he pivoted and followed Bling to the visitor's spot where Bling's car waited. Hearing the locks disengage, Logan opened the back door to toss in his computer and bag, and Bling did the same with the document sachel and his own backpack, where he'd stashed the extras supplies. At Logan's transfer, Bling came around to grab the pieces of his chair. "Sorry, man, but I think we need to stow these in the trunk. Just in case any of the sector cops are looking for a guy in a chair ... or are asked about one, later."

The chair was whisked away before he could protest. Logan grimaced at events, grumpily slamming the door as Bling slammed the trunk shut, but didn't complain – he didn't have to like any of it, but he knew what Bling was doing and why, and the least he could do was to show some appreciation for the man's efforts. And the way he saw it, keeping quiet about his opinion of all the cloak-and-dagger was like bestowing the congressional medal of honor on him...

As Bling slid into the driver's seat and started the car, he offered the information he knew Logan had wanted a few moments ago. "Max must have seen the reports – she understood what I was saying, that you're okay, and recognized that we don't need to say anything on an open line. She asked to be updated when we know more."

Logan grunted, nodding, appearing to be lost in his own thoughts. In the next moment, however, he roused to ask, "which safe house are we going to use?"

Bling glanced sideways at Logan for the barest moment, knowing this wouldn't go smoothly. "If this guy _is_ in with someone in the Informant Net, he could know about any of the safe houses we have here. So I'm taking you to my place."

"No way..." Logan shook his head forcefully.

"Logan, the only fully accessible safe house we have left that's still 'safe' is the one on Alder, one of the older ones, so more likely to be known to someone on in the Net – and you haven't sent anyone there for a while yourself, given that the area itself isn't all that great these days. I'm not taking you there, especially without your car." Bling spoke steadily, but was mentally berating himself for this lapse in preparation. They needed a safe house that only Logan and he – well, and Max – knew about, one that Logan could use readily on his own if need be, and that no one else would be able to identify. "Unfortunately, we don't have as many places to stash you as I'd like," he went on, " but my place will do for now."

But Logan was still shaking his head. "Bling, the 'safe' in 'safe house' means a place where someone being found at a particular location won't implicate the owner or tenant."

Bling shrugged. "You being at my apartment a few days is no more an implication than me showing up at your place every day. I _am_ still your therapist."

"Not for much longer, at this rate," Logan muttered in a low growl, grudging in his capitulation.

Finally, Bling relaxed just enough to chuckle a little. "Lots of perfectly logical explanations why you needed to get out of your place for a few days." He pulled onto a main thoroughfare, feeling more comfortable with more cars to hide among, and with every foot of distance he could arrange between where the authorities – or _whomever_ – would expect to find Logan Cale, and where he actually was. "You could make yourself useful by coming up with whichever story you think you'd like best."

Logan snorted and looked over at Bling, finding both his irritation and his appreciation gaining equal ground over his mood. "How many physical therapists would you say there are in the Seattle area? Just in case, you know, I'm in the market?"

As the odds for keeping Logan safe appeared to be increasing, Bling felt himself smile, and sat back to melt his car into the stream of mid-day traffic. "I'll get you a list..."

_**...to be continued...**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**﻿DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel borrowed, no profits made.**_

_**A/N: Thanks for reading, and extra thanks for the input from those of you who have stopped in to comment. Any and all reviews gladly accepted.**_

_--And talk about Logan being cranky! FFN wouldn't allow an upload in the usual way, so I'm trying to fool it by pasting this over an old chapter. If it turns out to have hiccups, I'll come fix them as soon as this newest illness is cured... -S- **  
**_

* * *

_**Unmasked!**_

* * *

_**﻿**_Max wasn't designed to be patient, not really. Oh, she could deal with waiting for huge stretches of time if it were a part of a mission, something planned – a goal- directed behavior – a goal in which she had some say. 

But not like this. Not just waiting around to see where Bling had taken Logan, wanting for all the world to trust that he'd do the best thing in all the circumstances and, apart from herself, would make the best decision for Logan's safety ... knowing that, apart from herself, Bling would be the best person to get his back.

_Apart from herself._

But this was making her crazy, this waiting, when she had no idea where they were and what was happening, who was really after Eyes Only and if Logan was in danger, after all. She was trained, _engineered,_ to act, to size up a threat and take steps to eradicate it if possible, avoid it if not. This waiting for someone else to check in, even if it was Bling, set her teeth on edge and made her skin crawl.

At least she was on her bike, burning a fraction of the adrenaline jetting around inside her, and not cooped up inside waiting for something to happen. _They probably wired me for extra adrenaline surges, for times like this_, Max thought sourly. _Maybe I shoulda stuck around Manticore long enough to ask the bastards what the hell we're supposed to do with all of it when there's no action to be taken._ Max guided her bike through slowed traffic like a shot, dodging scooters, pedestrians and other cyclists with no loss of momentum, forcing herself not to go faster than the others at Jam Pony could ride. _Perfect time to get yourself in a bind,_ she lectured herself,_ if Logan does need you, you'd better be around when they call, and not snapped up because some freaked out passerby saw you whizzing around town melting the metal on your bike._

She snaked up an alley drive onto the sidewalk and immediately hopped off, walking the bike the two doors down to her delivery location. Snapping her chain through the bike frame in a quick, practiced motion, she went inside and practically snatched her clipboard back before the man at the desk was finished signing for it. Muttering her thanks to the clerk for using Jam Pony, she went back outside and unlocked her bike.

It felt like hours since she spoke to Bling. Looking around, she saw a clock on the wall of the neighboring business.

...thirty-five minutes.

_Thirty-five minutes?_

She shook herself, irritated at her reaction. _Either get a grip on yourself or go looking for him now, Max, 'cos this isn't doing either of you any good. _ She stood astride her bicycle for the moment, looking for a sensible response. _The best you could do now is get lucky and stumble on them_, she reasoned. _Wait 'til you hear something, fill in the time at work to have some in the bank with Normal, in case you have to take off later._

That decided, she set off back toward Jam Pony, resigned to her decision but no less anxious about what was happening without her. _And you thought Logan was a control freak,_ she mused. _Maybe I'd better say that with a little more respect from now on..._

oxoxoxoxoxo

She'd gone on a few more short runs, paced, hung on every word of the news reports as they came on to update, and made herself crazy as she chided herself for not being able to focus better and just wait until they contacted her. _If I'm such a mess, what must Logan be doing now? He's probably over the edge with this if he hasn't figured it out yet._

She amused herself in dark humor, imagining yet another matter she could raise with the folks at Manticore, adding another to her list of many complaints she occasionally fantasized about presenting to them. _You people really need to get with it, either designing us not to hook up with people who can get under our skin, or teaching us how to put them out of our minds when it's time to focus on a mission, 'cos if you thought that your little science projects couldn't get distracted by grumpy cyberournalists and genuinely magical green eyes, you missed that one completely..._

Max was alternately frustrated and relieved that Original Cindy wasn't at work, but had gone to see family in California for a few days. Cindy could have helped Max keep her mind engaged – but also would have demanded to know what had her so turned around. _She might have seen me be way too interested in the news reports about Eyes Only and would want to know why I was so wrapped up in it._ _Maybe Logan ought to think about recruiting **her** for the Informant Net, _Max smirked at her sudden thought. _ She's about as resourceful and insistent a person as I've ever known..._

"Max! Hot run!"

No matter how relieved she was for another run to help the time move, Max was still not going to let it go to Normal's head. Sauntering over to his desk, she rolled her eyes and complained "Damn, Normal, why don't you hire a couple other riders if we're so busy?"

"I was just thinking we didn't need so many of you if you have time to lay around and watch TV all day." Normal was busy scribbling in the rest of the form he was filling out for Max's run. "This one asked for you by name, though..."

Max's breath caught. _Maybe..?_

"It's completely beyond me why, but the man said he had medical records that needed to be delivered and others picked up and returned, and you'd done runs for them before. Some kind of new confidentiality rules they have; they're limiting who can have access and since you'd managed not to screw up the other times..."

_It had to be! Logan or Bling; at least some answers... _She grabbed the sheet from Normal and saw that the first listed address was Bling's place, after that, a hospital, a clinic, and Bling's again. A sudden thought made her blood run cold. _Did something happen, and Bling needs medical supplies for Logan? Is that why the clinic and hospital?_ Mouth dry, she looked up at Normal to see him eying her strangely.

"What? You know him?" Normal peered at her closely. "No 'friends and family discount,' you know that..."

"Oh, no," she was rattled enough she didn't call him on his never-ending 'generosity.' "Not really." Needing to look calm despite her heart racing faster, manic to get to Bling's, she temporized, "I just remember who this is; the patient is a nice old guy but really sick, ya know? Maybe he's not doing so hot."

Normal looked at her quizzically, as if imagining suddenly that Max had a heart after all. "You'd better get going, then." His voice was just a shade softer than usual. As she left, though, the sound of the typical Normal compassion hit her ears. "And don't do anything to screw it up. You might just have a regular customer if you keep them happy."

_Focus, Max,_ she counseled as she set off across town. _No panic until you find out what's going on. If something's wrong you have to be ready to act..._ Again she forced herself into a quick but 'reasonable' speed, tearing though back alleys and across a large park to cut down the time. _It can't be that anything's wrong with him,_ she half lectured, half begged, as she rode. _All that work to get him to slow down, and he still hasn't let me try cooking for him without his help..._

Bling's building was soon dead ahead, and she looked around as she neared, both for Logan's car and for any out of place vehicles, people, anything ... she saw neither. _Where's Logan?_ she wondered. She suddenly cursed sharply at her failure to consider the options. _What if it hadn't been Bling or Logan who called? Why assume that either of them will be here? Max, you're slipping; maybe not everyone will know where Bling lives or your connection to any of this, but someone might... _

Her focus improving a little with the reminder of her carelessness, Max hopped off her bike. Securing it quickly and grabbing her clipboard in case her cover as a messenger was needed, she went into his building, moving around to the stairway to run silently up the stairs. Coming to the third floor landing, Max opened the hallway door slowly and looked toward Bling's door, then the other direction. She saw no one in the corridor.

Wasting no time now, she was at his door in a flash and knocked quickly, feeling her nerves thrumming now with anxious anticipation as she heard movement inside, responding to her knock. In only seconds the door opened, and the familiar dark face smiled for her as he stepped aside. "C'mon in, Max."

"Bling?" She barely had time to get that much out before he gestured her in, leading her inside past his kitchen to the front room. There, she saw a familiar and very welcome sight: Logan Cale, head bent over his laptop, frowning at the screen and poking at the keyboard in irritation – completely intact, unquestionably healthy, definitely not in police custody – and clearly displeased about recent events. _Crankiness, personified._ She felt as if the weight of the world had lifted from her...

Which of course she was not going to let either one of them see. "Got the wrong guy, did they?" She struck an attitude, fist on her hip, looking at Logan with an eyebrow raised, determined to not let any of hell she'd been though over the past hours show – but couldn't help notice the look she got from Bling, who looked away suddenly but not quickly enough to hide a tiny grin. _So he thinks he's busted me, does he?_ _He's not so smart, _she assured herself. _Besides,_ _who better than Bling to understand if this has us all a little jumpy?_ Fortified, she took another look back at Bling – and saw immediately that she'd lost that round to him. His grin merely quirked up a bit higher.

But at that moment Logan looked up at her, and her thoughts about Bling were immediately forgotten. "Hey, Max," he finally said, tersely, before looking back at the computer screen, the situation clearly making him as frustrated as she'd been earlier.

"What's new?" she poked, eyebrow twitching up again. She saw that when he looked back at her this time, he was a little more connected with her, but not much less frustrated.

"That's what I'm trying to find out."

"What do we know?" Max looked at Bling as well before looking back to Logan, who clearly wasn't in too talkative a mood.

Bling interceded, "if you've seen the news reports, you know as much as we do. Other than the fact that it was Matt who called to tell Logan something was going down."

Max frowned at that. "What did he say?"

"Nothing other than 'turn on the TV,' then he hung up." Logan interjected, eyes focused back on his computer. "He must've been someplace he couldn't talk."

Max felt new concerns stir but put them aside to ask, "Do you know the guy they arrested? Or why they picked him up?"

"I've never seen the guy, and can't find anything about what they have him for – or worse, why they think he's Eyes Only. With this much publicity they have to have something they plan to hold up as evidence. Damn..." Logan swore, again stabbing at the keyboard as another source came up empty.

"Nothing on the Net?"

Logan shook his head. "Completely silent, nothing about anything out of the ordinary until this happened. When we packed up to go I put everything on standby, so even if someone has anything they're not going to send it. I made a couple calls though, and nothing. Zip."

Max watched as Logan continued pulling up screens, grunting at the lack of information available about the man or his arrest, and she knew she had to ask. "Logan – any chance that Matt was trying to set you up, you know, bring you in?

Logan's head snapped up, and he gave her an accusative look. "No way." Logan shook his head emphatically. "I've known Matt longer than I've known either of you two, and there's no way..."

"She's right to ask," Bling interrupted, softly, looking at his employer.

Logan looked back up at Bling, then to Max, shutting his mouth to pre-empt the rest of the impassioned defense of Matt he'd begun. As he wavered a moment, Bling and Max saw that events just might have rattled the seemingly indifferent Logan to make him more than just testy. Logan hesitated another moment, then drew a breath. "I know... sorry, Max," he murmured, more focused on her now than he'd been since her arrival. "I just ... I had wondered the same thing too for a moment, this morning." His guilt for even considering it carried into his voice, explaining the intensity of his reaction to Max's question. "But honestly, I just don't think he would do anything to get either me _or_ Eyes Only in a bind."

At that moment, Max saw the look of helplessness in Logan's eyes as he battled his memory and speculation and what little facts they'd gathered so far, all in vain. _He's as frustrated with not knowing what's going on as I was when I didn't know where he'd gone, _she saw,_ and he's not as free to go investigate as I was, not 'til we know what's going on with this guy they arrested._ "Look, let me go talk to Matt. I'll just tell him I owe you and Eyes Only for getting me out of Langford, so I'm doing errands for you once in a while. I can see what he has to say, no wires or phones tapped you don't know about ... and I can check everything out."

His eyes seemed to lighten with her suggestion and he nodded readily. "Yeah, Max, that's a good idea, if you could..."

She finally smiled, relaxing a little with having some action to take... _to answer some questions? Or just to see him look a bit better, with the prospect of getting some answers?_ "Not a problem," she shrugged. _Either way ... or both ... something I can do..._ "I'll go now and see if he's available. If not ... I'll find him," her smile widened, "and I'll let you know as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Max," Logan looked more hopeful than he had since she'd arrived. At that, Bling reached out his hand toward Max, who blinked at him for the moment, not getting it. At his silent gesture toward the clipboard she held, she realized with a grin he was following though on their manufactured run that brought her here, and handed him the clipboard. As Bling signed the form, Logan smirked too and dug his wallet out of his backpack, still slung across the back of his chair.

"I told your boss the delivery was from here to Metro Medical, then you'd pick up something there to take on to a clinic at the docks and bring their records back here." Bling explained. "It ought to buy you a little more time than one simple delivery. I wrote in all the runs so if you add the time at the end, it will look as if I signed it when you finished everything – that way if you just call after seeing Matt you'll still have a signature your boss won't recognize."

Max grinned widely at Bling's efforts and looked to Logan. "He's sneaky. No wonder you keep him around." With a smile of appreciation to Bling, clearly for his efforts to get Logan's back, Max took the clipboard from him and pocketed the money Logan had given her. Tipping her head toward Logan, she asked Bling, "You're going to keep him out of trouble at least until we get things figured out, right?"

"That's my plan... but he's already threatened to fire me. Twice. It's why I brought him here; I figured he'd have a harder time kicking me out of my own home."

Max turned back to Logan, raising an eyebrow and feeling some satisfaction at the look of consternation on his face. _Pissy but staying put_, she surmised. She relented to offer, "You know if you need anything from your place that you forgot, I can get in and out without anyone being the wiser."

His Crankiness relented a little, and she saw appreciation flicker in his eyes. "Thanks Max... I think I got everything, but I'll let you know." From his sudden, gentle look of gratitude, another shift in his look brought up another smirk, and he rolled his eyes to look at Bling in a mock threat, "and I really don't intend to be away from home all that long."

At that, she raised a hand in dismissal and turned toward the door, calling over her shoulder, "I'll leave you boys to sort out your domestic problems. I've got a detective to see."

"Hey, Max...?" As she stopped and turned, she saw Logan coming up behind her, his attention fully on her now, his investigation put aside for her. His eyes held hers and, for the moment, he appeared to be uncertain of what to say. "Thanks. And – when you can, come back for a little while, can you? I mean..." Logan suddenly looked flustered, remembering he was Bling's houseguest, "if Bling doesn't mind..."

Bling smiled softly. "Max is always welcome."

Max smiled her thanks to the therapist, and turned back to his charge. "Sure," she said simply. _Anything more than that, Max, and he'll see how glad you are that he asked... and what's up with that, anyhow?_

"Good," he grinned, looking a little relieved. "And if you do talk to Matt, tell him thanks for the heads up, too."

"Good as done." She let her eyes take another long, appreciative look at the face she'd learned to crave, his smile, his sparkling eyes, but managed to open the door nonetheless. "Try to lay low for a while, huh?" she smiled slowly.

This time his complaint was sheepish as he nodded over toward Bling. "Don't think I have much choice. Be careful, Max," he added softly.

"Always." She pulled the door shut behind her and set off down the hall, sighing out a final layer of tension she'd been holding all morning as she waited for an all-clear on Logan. She reflected on the fact that, by the time she left, Logan and Bling each looked a little less intense than when she'd arrived, and she realized how good it felt knowing she could be of some help. _What is it about Logan Cale that gets people all wound up like he is, and ready to go in and fight the fight for him?_ she found herself wondering, not for the first time. That huge relief she'd felt to see him there, safe and whole, that little catch in her chest she'd felt upon seeing his reaction at her offer to help, made her wonder at the effect all this had been having on her otherwise carefully detached self. _Focus on the mission,_ she reminded herself. _Then, maybe once you help him get this whole Eyes Only-in-jail thing figured out ... **then**... maybe you'd better work on figuring out what all this is that he's doing to you..._

**_–TBC–_**


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel borrowed, no profits made. **

_A/N: Thanks as always for sticking with the story, and for the reviews along the way. Any and all comments appreciated.  
_

* * *

_ **Unmasked!**_

* * *

In another ten minutes, Max entered a coffee shop across the street from Matt's precinct and went to the pay phone, calling the number she'd been given by Logan. She hadn't thought to ask him if he knew how many other people used this number for the detective, but she suspected a cop who moonlighted as an informant for Eyes Only would have a secure line he gave only a few people. And when the line was answered so much like Logan answered his, she suspected she was right. 

"Yeah."

"Hi – got a few minutes for an informant?' she asked.

To Matt's credit, Max noticed, he barely hesitated. "Depends," he said smoothly. "Do I know you?"

"Not very well, but you know my boss. He sent me over; he's kinda involved at the moment."

No hesitation at all this time. "Where do you suggest?"

"Coffee shop, across the street?"

"Be right there." There was a click as the call was ended. Max hung up slowly, pretending to read the message board on the wall by the front window as she watched the precinct entrance. It was hard to see the doors through the crush of reporters and media hacks milling around the building, certainly there for the same reason she was, to get some info about the guy inside who they claimed was Eyes Only. She absently noted the hand-outs and fliers posted in front of her, advertising everything from free puppies to bail bondsmen, roommates wanted and child care services, jailhouse ministry and crisis counseling...

She thought about Matt, what it must be like for him. _Crappy job for an honest guy, being a cop. Some stranger calls him and says they have info, and he goes, no questions asked. Must be hell on Mrs. Matt. Wonder how much a good cop had to depend on informants back when the world wasn't broken,_ she mused. _I guess their world was already pretty broken long before it got that way for the rest of us._

It wasn't more than a couple minutes before she saw Matt walk outside, threading through the crowd, his pace perfectly suited to a guy who was just going across the street for a quick break, even shaking his head with a casual laugh and shrug toward a couple reporters, hands up, as if as empty of information as they were. Max walked toward a small booth midway back and slipped in to wait. All this time, she'd never actually met Matt Sung, but Cindy had and said he'd been a good guy, a real gentleman, for a cop. Max even grinned a little as she remembered how that fact had temporarily shaken Original Cindy's view of the universe, at least for a day or two. Besides, Logan trusted Matt implicitly, and he'd helped get _her_ ass out of Langford. All that started him off with several points in her book.

As he entered, Matt caught the eye of the woman behind the counter and lifted two fingers, barely having to wait before the mugs were directed into his grip. Handing her a couple bills just as quickly, he unhurriedly came over to the booth, set down both coffees and slid into the bench across from Max.

"Here – looks a little less obvious while we're in a coffee shop if we have coffee. You're Max," he began, his voice low but affable.

She nodded. "Thanks for coming over. Given what's up, Logan had some other stuff to do, and since I owe him a favor or two for what he worked out with you, that thing with Langford ..."

Matt nodded, getting to the point. "Does he know anything?"

"Only what you told him."

Matt frowned, clearly hoping for more. "So does he know if this guy's the real deal?"

"I don't know." Max had decided that it would make sense that she was merely a runner without any inside information, but she would have to play it by ear to know how much to press the detective, even someone so trusted. Matt was on the outside of Eyes Only, not only for the safety of Logan and the Informant Net, but for Matt's own safety and his ability to stay on the job, where he made a difference. The last thing anyone needed right now was for her to screw up that balance on top of everything else. She tried, "any chance he's who he says he is?"

Matt grimaced, clearly skeptical at the thought. "I think he's a wannabe – or just wants us to think he's Eyes Only, for whatever reason."

"Really?" Max was surprised. "Why would someone want to pretend to be someone just to get locked up?"

"We get 'em all the time with high publicity crimes, like when serial criminals are announced or fugitives reported. The notoriety, I guess; who knows. They're usually not too stable. This guy hasn't said much, but from what I can tell, he doesn't seem bright enough to be him. Someone working the way Eyes Only does, underground, never caught, the people he's brought down – the guy has to be some kind of genius to pull off what he's done," Matt said, his admiration clear. "I guess if he _wanted_ to get inside and play dumb, he's good enough even for that, too, but ... no, I just don't think it's him."

Max hoped her face remained neutral at Matt's declaration of Logan's genius, and shrugged, "kind of a dumb thing to do, no matter who it is, get himself caught like that."

"I haven't heard it all yet, but I guess it was a set-up – someone got word that there was going to be a meet between Eyes Only and an informant, but the informant flipped to the DA's office and they planted someone there to make the meet, with our people there to arrest this guy." Matt took a sip of his coffee, frowning. "Does Eyes Only himself even _do_ meets?" Matt asked, as much to himself as to Max.

Again, Max shrugged, "can't say. So it was the DA?" Logan would need to know this, soon.

"Best I heard – although I'm not assigned on this one. I thought about pulling some strings and seeing if I couldn't get the case, but in the circumstances, especially if it's the DA's office that instigated everything, it might look suspicious to ask for a case. Besides, the guy they assigned, Eddie Conway, isn't a bad detective, just naive. If he was told that this guy is Eyes Only he'd be the last guy to question it, and probably won't do much to investigate any further. He's the sort who just ... goes along, doesn't want to step on any toes."

"A detective?"

Matt met her eyes and snorted. "Yeah, it's handy to have someone like him around, when they want to keep things from straying off an expected path. The fact that he was assigned is significant – someone has probably decided they have Eyes Only in custody, and he's going to _remain_ Eyes Only."

"Why?" Max heard herself ask.

Matt shrugged. "Well, it's not long until the elections, and the DA is running again. If we hear anything from him in the next few hours crowing about how he's put away the terrible criminal, Eyes Only..."

"...he'd be explaining why Detective Conway was assigned to the case." Max agreed. _What's Logan going to think about this?_ she wondered. _Too bad Matt isn't further in on this one... _On a whim, she asked, "any chance I can get in to see him?"

Matt snorted again softly and shook his head as he sat back, taking another draw on his coffee. "Get in line." He looked up and gestured over his shoulder where the reporters still bobbed around the front of the police station, looking for information. "They're all hoping for the same thing. So far, no one has gotten in. And he's asked to see his lawyer, which probably means, no matter who he is, he'll be told to not say a word to anyone."

She frowned, well aware that Matt was right. Frustrated in her knowledge that their time to get information from the man was limited, she asked, "there's got to be some way I could talk to him..."

"Max – everyone in this city who has ever had a press card wants to get the exclusive on who Eyes Only is, and what makes him tick. And the jail staff already is familiar with the lawyer and his staff, so you can't say that's who you are."

"What about family?"

"No one in yet, although several 'sisters,' 'brothers,' 'aunts,' 'uncles,' 'mothers' and 'fathers' have appeared and wanted to see their darling boy. Even a 'grandmother.' All dim-bulb reporters in not-well-planned disguises." Matt shifted, as frustrated as Max not to have better information. "Look, I'll do whatever I can to help you and Logan do what you think needs to be done – but the DA's office has been swarming around there, too, since they brought the guy in, and I suspect they're going to keep a close eye on things. Maybe they hope that they can dismantle the Informant Net, too, while they're at it. And you've got an extra problem going for you."

Max looked back at him from the coffee cup she realized she'd been studying. He saw the question in her eyes, a wariness in it, and softened his words a little.

"You have a building full of men over there who not only have an eye for a beautiful woman, it's their _job_ to notice people and remember them. Max, no way will you _not_ be noticed. And there are surveillance cameras all over – not always the clearest shot, but good enough to match description and serve as a reference against another ID. You go into lock-up once, and whoever you want to say you are, _that's_ who you'll be for as long as any one of those men is still around. And you might run into a few of the guys who were there when they pulled you in. Maybe it won't be a problem – but it's something else to think about."

She frowned, well aware that Matt might be right, at least about the cops' ability to remember a face. And from the leers of the horn-dogs she'd encountered ever since she'd hit about fourteen, she knew he was probably right about the rest, too. _Manticore screwed that one up, not making us just blend and be forgettable._ "But if his lawyer shows up soon and shuts him off from everyone – that could be any time now, right?"

At his nod, Max frowned, trying to decide how she could come up with an edge over the others, one to get her inside to see the man in custody, and one that wouldn't put her in the sights of the Seattle P.D. Suddenly, a couple stray memories from the notice board flickered across her thoughts and, with a small smile, she looked back to Matt. "You have visitor passes for people to get back to lock-up, right? Different kinds, other than just media or family."

He nodded. "Yeah – legal, medical, clergy..."

"Bingo," Max grinned. "If you can get me a pass," he smile widened, conspiratorially. " I have a couple programs I'd like to offer our friend ... I think our 'ministry' could make his stay here less difficult."

"Max – you don't exactly look like any of the local pastors I've met–" Matt began.

"But I might look like one of the lost, newly found." She started to like the idea more and more as she thought about it. "Look, if they remember me from before, I say I was converted in jail and now paying back the favor, a volunteer. I know I can't be the first. For down the road ... I suppose I can always fall off the wagon."

Matt chewed on the idea for another few moments and shrugged, in concession to her plan. "Sounds better than any of the press' ideas so far." He drained his coffee, and as he seemed to be working on a few ideas of his own, smiled back at her wryly. "Give me about fifteen minutes then come on over, front desk. Maybe I can help the message find its way to the poor man, about getting right with his Maker."

Max watched Matt walk back as casually as he came, not hurried, but still businesslike, focused. _Wonder how long he and Logan go back, _she mused,_ and how Matt cast in with Eyes Only? _Waiting only another minute or so, she rose and sauntered back to the pay phone, lifting a flier or two from those promising comfort and forgiveness as she waited. "Hey, Bling," she said at the sound of the man's voice, still reading the tract's text quickly. "Hope you don't mind me checking in at this number."

On the other end, the trainer glanced over at the man still frowning at the screen before him, much as he'd been when Max left thirty minutes before. "Not a problem," he said softly. "Hang on."

At Bling's words, Logan's head popped up and his eyes asked silently if it was her. Bling's reassuring expression, as he handed the phone to Logan silently, was answer enough. "Max–" he began.

"Hey," she began, speaking quickly and quietly, seeing one of the reporters headed toward the coffee shop door. "Matt doesn't know much, but I might be able to talk to Eyes Only himself in a few minutes."

Bling saw Logan's eyes go wide in surprise. "How? The place is surrounded by reporters; it's been on the news all afternoon."

"Alternate methods, with Matt's help." She turned her back toward the door unobtrusively, relaxing some when she heard the reporter head straight for the counter and order four coffees to go.

"Max, look_–_ " Logan started, then hesitated, not expecting sudden access to the man in custody and uncomfortable with Max charging in without any sort of script or briefing. _Great, Cale, she's in, while you and the entire Seattle media are locked out – and you're going to insult __**her**__ ability to do things right? _"Anything you can get from him – who he is, why he's doing this, if anyone's behind it, what he wants, what he _knows_..."

"Yeah, I'm on it – I just don't know how much time they'll give me, but it's gotta be now because Matt said he's got a lawyer on the way..."

Logan nodded, actually feeling more comfortable with her involvement than he really ought to feel, just not yet certain how willing Max would be to bend to the subtitles of the situation. She'd clearly proven her capabilities, finessing the demise of Sonrisa and Solinski, dealing with a hostage situation and swooping in to keep him from being sidewalk splatter, all without breaking a nail. But Max's actions were more articulate than her words; at least with him, she sometimes was a bit ... less than subtle.

He sighed. _Bright side_, he urged himself. "Thanks, Max. Be careful – lock-up can't be the best place for you."

He could hear the smile in her voice as she replied. "World must still be broken if a girl can't be safe, surrounded by cops." She was still smiling as she ended the call and went to the counter for a refill as she waited Matt's fifteen minutes.

Logan sighed again as he flipped Bling's phone closed, frustrated with the lack of information, the need for him to stay put until they sorted out what was what ... and his inability to have at least a little input into what Max would say or do, if she was able to get into see the mystery man. Despite his ever-deepening feelings for Max, how much he cared for her, even he could see that she still had rough edges that might prove a problem for meetings like these. _Sometimes her sense of reality needs an upgrade, _he considered, wondering about her confronting this man._ This is the same girl who was genuinely indignant that I broke in to investigate her after she broke in to __**steal**__ from me,_ he reflected, with a sigh. _And she never saw even a glimmer of irony in that.._.

"Max is getting in to see him?" Bling interrupted his thoughts. He appeared impressed with Max's resourcefulness.

Logan handed Bling's phone back to him and he nodded, a prickly sound to his voice as he spoke. "She thinks so – Matt and she are working on it. There are just still way too many questions for me to be comfortable with her in there, Bling."

Bling's expression wasn't quite a smile, knowing that the situation was still was too unsettled to be safe for either Max or Logan, but he was more willing to put his trust in Max's training and instincts than Logan seemed to be at the moment. "I don't have to tell you how good she is at what she does. She'll be alright. And Matt will be nearby as a back up."

"I know," Logan sighed. "I just hate feeling so ... useless," he grumbled.

"Big surprise there," Bling said. When Logan looked back up at him, sharply, Bling smiled his encouragement. "I took your bag back to the first bedroom, down the hall. If there's anything you need that we didn't bring..."

"Bling..." Logan remembered, "no; look, I'm not going to kick you out of your own bedroom..."

But his host shook his head. "My other bedroom is made up more for my practice than for sleeping, but I have a mat I can use there. You'll take my bed..."

"Bling, the mat is fine for me..."

"No, actually, it's not," Bling said calmly, comfortably shifting into therapist mode. "It's not uncomfortable, but there's not enough give for your use. Between the two of us, I'm not the one who has to think about pressure sores. Besides," Bling smirked, " how am I supposed to get my morning workout with your skinny ass lying across the middle of my dojo floor?" Logan looked unconvinced, and Bling offered, "C'mon, Logan – let's consider it my contribution to helping Eyes Only stay strong in the struggle."

Logan looked back up at him, brow still furrowed for another moment, before then snorting softly. "You say that like you don't spend every other day of your life doing exactly the same thing," he offered, guilt coloring his words.

Bling's eyebrows raised as his smirk shifted higher with his amusement. "Not tucking him into bed at the end of the day, I don't."

"Well, _don't_ get used to it – because this is a one night stand." Logan felt himself relax a little at his friend's tireless good humor, yet again impressed at how effortlessly he could shift gears to say just the right thing in just the right way, as always, persuasive and supportive in the same deft approach. "And there's no reason I can't just sleep on the couch."

Bling laughed, and just shook his head as he moved into the kitchen, checking his cupboards to see how well his kitchen was stocked. He hadn't planned on company, but post-Pulse living taught most people to buy ahead when they could, given that sudden shortages or transportation failures could make some items impossible to find for a while. _Not bad, _he decided, and called, "think Max will be back in time for dinner, too?"

He didn't get an answer right away, and as he turned to speak again, he saw Logan coming into the kitchen, his expression again showing his discomfort with the circumstances. "Why don't we just call out for delivery – or we could get take-out..."

"Not tonight, Logan, it's still a bit early to know what's going on." He looked at Logan, calmly, clearly having no intention of losing this debate. "Let's just let a little time go by and see if anyone is seen at the penthouse, looking for you, or if there are any calls or contacts. And Max might have some more information soon. In the meantime – no unnecessary trips or visitors, not even the pizza delivery man."

Logan sighed, the situation yet again working to remind him how powerless he felt at the moment. "I'm sorry that you're in the middle of this," he looked back up to his friend.

"I'm not." Bling smiled. "Because I'd hate to think how crazy it would have made me to hear those reports on TV and not be in the same room with you."

Logan looked at him for a moment, finally muttering, "and you call me a control freak."

"Doesn't mean I don't have my moments, too."

Logan considered his friend another long moment, then shook his head in surrender. "So do you want some help figuring out dinner?"

"I wondered if you'd take the hint."

Logan rolled his eyes and neared the cupboard where Bling stood, peering along cans of vegetables and dried pasta. _Only a few more hours captive 'til we're sure it's safe for you, Logan, and you can go back home,_ he thought silently. _Given everything else in your life these past months, I'll bet you can survive the waiting, too...  
_

**...to be continued...**


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel borrowed, no profits realized. **

_**A/N:**__ Uh-oh, another story left waiting for nearly a year ... but I have some of the next chapters already nearly done. If you've wondered about this one, I swear there __**is**__ more ahead – it's just the in-between stuff that has been taking some time. _

_Would love to know if anyone is still along for this one! All thoughts & comments welcomed._

* * *

_**Unmasked!**_

* * *

Max took her refilled coffee mug from the kid at the counter and wandered back to the message board. With a subtle glance around, she lifted handfuls of the religious tracts and program fliers from the many hanging in envelopes affixed to posters promising salvation, at least six or seven of each flier, and took her armload back to a small table. In the ten minutes remaining before she'd go over to meet Matt again at the precinct office, anyone who might glance over at her would think she was just casually glancing over at the fliers, but Max was thoroughly speed-reading their contents. _At least I'll be able to talk the talk when I get back there_, she mused.

A sudden thought interrupted her reading. _Logan has complete trust in Matt Sung and because of that, I have, too – but what if this time Logan's wrong? Walking into a police station? A __**jail**__? What would Zack say to that?_ she wondered. Considering again, she remembered that Matt had helped her, too, not only Logan and Eyes Only – but he was only one guy among many. _Worth the chance, _she decided,_ but not one moment do you let your guard down, Max..._

She downed the rest of her coffee and gathered her tracts together, shuffling through them to put on top the two relating to services and support groups for those in local custody. She stood and pulled off her biker gloves, tugged at her jacket, and snapped it closed up to the top. Spying a loose rubber band lying near the bulletin board, she grabbed it and smoothed back her hair into a demure ponytail. _Nothin' to be done about the pants and boots, but could be worse_, she decided. Tucking the stack of handouts in the crook of her arm, she pushed out of the coffee shop and started to walk across the street, head down, to move her way through the bank of reporters. _Showtime,_ she grinned to herself.

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo_

Her ruse worked through the first level of "security," consisting of one of the younger cops, posted at the door to keep out any reporters or those who weren't there on legitimate police business. The handouts and her sweetly batted eyelashes worked to get Max into the precinct's front counter, which ran the length of the room and served as a barrier between the public waiting area and the squad's maze of desks and file cabinets. Max was relieved to see that the precinct wasn't overly crowded with police officers at the moment.

As promised, Matt was near the counter, perched on the corner of a desk, ostensively studying a report, when she walked in. Matt looked up and considered her for a couple moments, as if sizing her up, before he spoke. "Help you?" he asked, his manner professional, but cool and distant.

Max nodded eagerly, an innocent earnestness fixed on her face. "I'd like to go down to lockup and see some of the prisoners about our programs..."

Matt grunted and tried, "you don't happen to be a reporter, too, do you?" Another detective nearby chuckled, and Matt turned back toward him, throwing him a grin.

"No!" Max blinked in wide-eyed innocence, "my counselor said that it would be good for me to come see some of them, and tell them that I know how it can be when things are bad, but that there's a better way..."

Matt allowed a subtle, long suffering sigh, then stood with a look that made it seem as if it took all his energy to do so. "Got some I.D?" he tried.

"Uh-huh." Max affected a smile of sweet guilelessness, and she dug in her pocket and pulled out a card, which Matt took in his hand, subtly palming it from others' view. _He's good,_ Max thought. _Guess he'd have to be to hide his Eyes Only connections in this job._

"Okay – give me a minute..." As Matt crossed back to a computer to type in a few things, Max stood patiently in the waiting area, swallowing the sudden alarm she felt not knowing what information he was typing in –her I.D. information? Something he invented? _Whatever it was, if it was from her I.D., it wouldn't be completely new to the system,_ she assured herself, _because everything on that Jam Pony I.D. is in someone's database __**somewhere**_... She focused on the persona she was trying to project, assuming that such a person would be focused on her mission – she even allowed a private chuckle at that – rather than prowling curiously around the area. She shuffled through her fliers again, as if counting them; otherwise, she stood waiting quietly. The couple cops in the squad room flashed her a curious smile, and she kept her smile in return vacant and wholesome.

It was only a few moments before Matt straightened and walked back up to the counter, pulling out two plastic clip-on badges from an unseen bin behind it, one badge labeled "clergy" and the other, "volunteer." He slid a clipboard toward her which held a sign-in sheet. When he spoke this time, his voice was lower but still its tone neutral and businesslike. "Go ahead and put down a name – I'll take you back, but you'll sign in again, down there."

Max smiled happily and signed in. With that, Matt opened the gate in the counter for her and Max came around and through the counter's entry, falling into step behind him as he led her back through the squad room and the back halls, toward the holding cells she knew to be in the adjoining building.

As they walked, Matt spoke little, and Max suspected he was well aware of the placement of security cameras and mics in the building. Glancing up toward the ceiling on one location, Matt said quietly, not breaking his pace, "No idea if he'll want to see you, but at least you're getting further than anyone else has. And maybe he'll be like the rash of other converts, suddenly seeing the light in the hope that it will impress the judge." He paced another thirty yards or so before adding, "no idea when counsel will show up, either, but if he gets here before you leave, I'll be sure that he gets a long, _thorough_ security check before he's allowed back in holding – you know, for everyone's safety," he finally grinned. They took the stairs down a flight, and crossed what was clearly an underground tunnel to lock-up in silence, but just outside the entry to the holding cells, Matt spoke one more time. "They usually allow a five minute visit, but rarely more, even for someone they've decided is legit – you know, like family, or a regular volunteer or pastor. Sometimes they cut them off early but knowing the proclivities of the man at the window, he might even spot you a few extra minutes if you smile at him sweetly."

"Ugh," she grunted softly.

"Hey, Max – it's an advantage guys like me don't have," Matt grinned as he glanced at her, opening the door into the waiting area for her. "Oughta learn to use it when you need to."

"Oh, I _use_ it," she looked up to him, effecting a vapid, sweet smile. "I just don't have to like it."

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo_

Leaving Max at the corridor entry several feet away, Matt approached the desk sergeant at lock-up, an aging, heavy-set police department veteran whose bad knee and bad back took him off the streets, and whose barely-adequate intelligence limited the number of desk jobs he could handle. _Just as well, in the circumstances,_ Matt thought...

"Hey, Detective," the man greeted him, cheerily.

"Hey, Sarge. How goes it?" Matt responded in kind.

"Pretty quiet down here – away from all the publicity. I hear you guys have wall to wall reporters at your door."

Matt chuckled, "yeah, and then some. How's the famous prisoner?"

"Pretty quiet, for such a big mouth on TV. And a lot punier for someone with such big _cahones_."

Matt chuckled again. "Yeah, well, no wonder he needed the mask." He nodded back toward where Max stood, and asked, "has the new girl been back on this end yet?"

"What – medical?" The sergeant leaned sideways to get a better look at Max, grinning and wagging his eyebrows toward Matt as he got a fuller look at her.

"No, from the Mission." The man's hungry look immediately fell and he looked to Matt with a 'say it ain't so' expression. Matt nodded, rolling his eyes a little, "yeah, another saved soul, wanting to pass it on."

The guard snickered, "maybe they catch more flies with honey now in the soul-saving business."

Matt nodded, "if so, this little honey could bring in a whole flock."

The guard snickered. "I may just ask her in to save _me._"

"I'd be careful with that, Rusty, unless you want to buy a reprimand. Of course..." Matt winked, "maybe she's worth the risk..." He turned to walk back toward Max, "you can sign in here, miss," he gestured toward the desk sergeant, "and he'll have someone escort you out when you're through."

She nodded obediently and walked past Matt toward the sign in area, catching the subtle wink he threw at her as he kept walking back the way they'd come. Max now fixed her attention on "Rusty," who was admiring her unabashedly now.

"Hi," Max offered, sweetly.

"Hey, darlin,'" the man began, "I haven't seen you here before. I'd remember," he added, suggestively.

"I haven't been down here before," she replied as she finished signing in. "Just over where they have the work-release poisoners," she ad-libbed.

"Well, those guys are the model prisoners or they wouldn't be there. These guys, you never know, they're just off the streets."

"Really?" she asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

He nodded, in his element now. "Oh, yeah. Maybe still hopped up on whatever dope the had in their systems, some just fresh from whatever got them here. Don't know if too many are in the right mood to be saved just yet."

"How many men are back there, Sergeant?" she tried.

"Ten – but two of 'em are passed out, stone dead to the world. Another couple are still seeing pink elephants and three headed zebras."

Max managed to look appropriately disappointed for a moment, then tried, "what about that man on TV today, Eyes Only? He's here, too?"

"Oh, yeah..." the man chuckled. "He's here."

"He looked alright on TV..." She pretended to consider that for a moment. "I'd like to talk with him, please."

The sergeant snorted dismissively. "So would everyone else. He's not seein' nobody."

Max pouted a little, prettily. "Really? That's sad."

"Sad? _He's_ pretty sad, if you ask me..."

"I'm sure he is," Max feigned ignorance of the sarcasm as she used it to press, "just think – all this time, he's had to hide from everyone, behind a made-up name, even behind a mask. Maybe now that people know who he is, he might want to share his burdens, maybe even come to one of our group meetings, just to have someone to talk to." She lifted one of the fliers and slid it to the sergeant, pointing out the group information printed there, then looked up at the man with innocent sincerity. "It must be awful for him, if he hasn't told anyone who he is, in all this time."

The guard relented.

Heaving himself out of his chair, he said, "I'll ask him if he wants to see you, but don't hold your breath. Wait here, and if he agrees it will take a couple minutes to get him over to the visitor's cell. You know where...?" When she smiled vacantly and shook her head no, he pointed across the hall. "You'll go in the door marked "visitors" and I'll put him in the fourth cubicle. It's a little cleaner than the others, on your side."

She beamed. "Thank you," she sparkled for him.

"Anything for you, doll," he drawled. "I'll see what I can do."

"'kay," she nodded, forcing herself not to roll her eyes or snort for the security camera's unforgiving eye. _Logan will have to throw in some extra pay-back chocolate for this one_, she breathed to herself.

But in only a few minutes the guard came back, grinning smugly. "He'll see you – with a little help from me. I told him you'd really be hurt if he said no," he elaborated.

_More like said you'd hurt __**him**__?_ Max wondered, _or was it just some smarmy description of the girl asking to see him? _Either way it did the trick. _Matt was right, as much as you might not like it_, she reminded herself as heard herself gush, "oh thank you!"

"Just so you remember ol' Rusty, when you come to visit," he wheezed, leering at her.

_No worry there_, Max thought, _I'll remember you, all right._ As she nodded and turned to head into the visitor's room, she shook off the bad taste left by the oily guard and her performance to encourage just such a reaction. _Face it, Max, just what you told Matt _– _you've used it before and you'll use it again, so get in there and see who this guy is... _

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo_

Max settled into the cheap plastic chair pulled up to an old fashioned visitor's table, with bulletproof glass between the visitors' room and the prisoners' side. At the moment, she was alone in the room, and she again ran through how she might best use her time. If it was just the few minutes, she couldn't waste them...

She heard the locks being opened, and a large, silent guard brought in the rumpled man she'd see plastered all over the news during the past several hours. His eyes scanned the booths quickly and as his eyes fell on her he grinned slightly, as if understanding with whatever the guard must have said. He slid into the seat across from her and the guard barked, "five minutes."

As the guard turned to stand at the back wall, 'Eyes Only' man started talking to Max. She blinked a little and pointed to the telephone handset at his shoulder. _So this guy is new to being inside,_ she figured,_ if he didn't even catch that..._

"I said the guard was right, that a pretty woman wanted to save my soul," he began, cocky way beyond what a rumpled guy behind bars ought to be, "but then when he said she asked to see Eyes Only? Well, I figure it's not so much my soul you're worried about."

Surprised for the opening, Max ran with it, figuring she could use all the time he would offer. "So you know there are hundreds of people out there wanting to know what's up with you..."

"Yeah, and you're the first one to make it this far, so I decided I'd see you."

"Thanks." She appeared to relax, but underneath her thoughts spun furiously. _What a piece of work! Like he's in a bar, hittin' on the women and playing that he's the local underground hero..._

"...not sayin' anything, though, 'cos my lawyer's on his way." He mused a moment, though, before going on, "you're too pretty to be a reporter – or at least, one not on TV – but I don't remember seeing you on any local reports..."

"Not a reporter," she told him, flatly.

"Yeah, right. Then why are you here?"

She shrugged, "just curious. I was in the building and thought if I could get in, I could at least hook you up with..."

"You're an _agent?_" he suddenly grinned broadly, "now that's what I'm _talkin'_ about! Look, can you stick around, talk to my lawyer when he gets here? Because the reporters out there, they all want a piece of this and if I can get the best deal..."

She managed to hide her surprise at the turn the conversation had taken, and challenged, "what about the best reporter?"

"If the price is right," he countered smugly.

Max considered, and she looked suddenly skeptical. "Eyes Only is willing to sell out for the benjamins? No way..." She folded her arms, sitting back against the worn plastic of the chair back.

"Hey, do you think being Eyes Only is cheap? I got a business to run, and on the sly, too. Paying informants, paying cops to look the other way..."

"Yeah, I see how _that_ turned out..."

"Look, do you want to get me a story or not? Or are you really an agent at all?" He suddenly looked a bit skeptical, and Max dialed it back a little.

"I get it – it costs money to run a 'business' – but think about this: what's going to be a better payday for you down the road, a cheesy tabloid with smacked-up reporters who may pay big to start, but never sell after that first week? Or a decent writer with a real paper, maybe keep the story going..."

"Yeah..." the man considered it, his eyes growing large. "Better."

"What's all this for, anyway?" she gestured around them. "You get yourself caught on purpose?"

"No way," the man shook his head a bit too forcefully.

"Then why go public now?" Max pressed. "What's all this about, anyway?"

The man wavered, then tried, "like I said, it's not cheap out there. I got busted, so I was sitting here figuring what I could do to make it work. Hey, I'm Eyes Only," the swagger was back momentarily. "You think this is the first time I've been in a tight spot?"

_Oh, please_, Max thought to herself, willing her eyes not to roll in disgust. "I can only imagine," she appeared to concede. "How'd you get caught?"

"I was set up – one of my informants."

"Do you know who?"

His eyes narrowed. "I thought you were just an agent." He snorted. "I should have known you were just another reporter– fooled me; I'll give you that. You _must_ be good if you got back here," he said again.

"I'm not the reporter – but someone I know is." She sat back, letting him think she was weighing her options, then leaned forward, "I could be an agent with one of the best writers out there. You want this done right, he's your guy."

"And this guy – he's the one who sent you?"

"No – I can promise you that he has no idea that I'm suggesting you see him to write your story." On a hunch she shrugged, appearing to apologize, "he might not want to do it."

The guy snorted, "then he'd be the only one who doesn't. I know there's a crowd of them out there. Writers want stories that everyone wants to read. He'd be crazy not to want to write this one." He leaned closer, intrigued now. "Who is it?"

Max suddenly felt a small concern that this might be a weird ruse to flush out the real Eyes Only – but if so, they stumbled on absolutely the wrong way to go about it, given that the real Eyes Only was a reporter, and that every reporter in the city would want this. It would look more suspicious for any individual reporter _not_ to try to get access.

And with that, Max said, simply, "Logan Cale."

The man's eyes narrowed a little, clearly mulling over something. Seeing his reaction, his appearing to consider a familiar name, Max asked, "you know him?"

"I looked around at different writers' stuff, before ended up here. Because, being Eyes Only," he said broadly, puffing up again in the cocky, self- assured manner he'd shown her at first, "I have to know what's going on in the city, who's doing what to who." A smug grin now appeared as he boasted for her, "I have to be careful about what they're saying about me." He paused a couple moments and, more thoughtful now, said "yeah, I've seen a few of Cale's stories, but it's been a while – he's been pretty quiet lately."

"Gone underground," she nodded, "for the most part."

"And he wants to write my story, too?"

"Truthfully? I have no idea. As I said, he doesn't know I that I'm suggesting you see him to write your story. He might take a pass."

The guy snorted, "I know from the way he writes, Cale's not stupid. And maybe he needs the story of the decade to get him back on the front page, you think about that?"

"You're awfully sure of yourself," Max couldn't resist.

"Helps when you have a couple hundred people outside begging for your attention," he smirked.

The guard suddenly growled to life. "Time's up."

"No way was that five..." the man began his turn to see the guard nearing ominously.

"It was nearly ten, if you make me write up a report about how you resisted going back to your cell..." the guard said, darkly.

The braggadocio faded immediately as the man paled, and turned back to Max. "He can contact my brother-in-law – my _lawyer,_ he added, more than corrected, she would think later. "Arty Blake – Arthur. And you can come back to see me too, if you want..."

As he half-stood and was half-hauled back toward the door, Max wondered at the sudden sound of him, his last words almost a plea for her company. "What's your name?" she suddenly called to him, kicking herself for nearly forgetting.

"Dale Sanders," he called back through the glass, his smile almost an innocent, hopeful one, as he spoke.

"Time to go, miss" the guard glowered at her.

"Yes sir," she said meekly, standing and watching as well as she could, the large guard's body nearly blocking all view. But she stood unmoving for a moment, letting the conversation play again in her mind, before finally turning to walk out toward the waiting area and an escort out of the place...

**_...to be continued..._**


End file.
